Breaking the habit? Or just breaking?
by AlexandraPotter1196
Summary: Ally Black is breaking, but what she isn't sure. This is a companion piece to chapter 1 of The Sins of Us, it is a song-fic based off of Linkin Park's "Breaking the habit". The Sins of Us universe does not need to be read to understand this one shot. Rated M for violence and harsh themes. No pairings but Sirius/OC (Athena) implied. Read and Review please.


**Disclaimer: I do not own JK Rowling's work or Linkin' Park's, just the plotline and my OCs**

**A/N: This is a re-post so that the actual lyrics can't be seen. For the actual song look up "Breaking the habit".**

**Thanks Ally**

**Breaking…the habit? Or just breaking…**

The door slammed shut behind me as I ran into my bedroom at home. Even the notion of "home" is a bit ridiculous in all fairness. Given the fact that I live here for only 3 months in a year, it's pretty much just my summer residence. Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

My father's childhood home, a place which he swore that no one else would have bad memories of. Well, in my opinion, he's not doing a very good job of that. I mean, the only memories I really remember are the bad ones.

Arguments. Curses. Pain. Humiliation. Defeat.

It's been like this for as long as I can remember. It's quite obvious that no one remembers a time when I wasn't forgotten or resented or hated. In fact my younger siblings know no different, but that is heart-breaking in itself.

The summer after OWLs should be one of rest and relaxation, and it is for most people. For me, it's just another summer. Forgotten and discarded like every other one I can remember, each one seems to get worse.

It's sad when the only person you speak to regularly is a talking portrait. One that is snarky and sensitive, and frankly not very pleasant. But I guess the fact that Phineas Nigellus actually talks to me kindly is something.

As I toss myself onto my bed I look around the room. The portraits are either asleep or elsewhere, in different frames and Phineas is nowhere to be seen, most likely spying on Dumbledore. I look around once more before grasping the wand tightly in my hands, my mother's wand.

I bring it up and cast a curse on my wrist, the blood-boiling hex, and the skin purples as the blood beneath heats. The pain is a welcome relief, the mark I know will be gone within minutes. So I cast it again. And again. And again.

The physical pain I can deal with, it's the emotional that causes it. Emotional pain hurts. Physical pain numbs.

Each day with my family is like a mini-war. Each tug the cords that bind fray and rip. Each night they are patched up again by well-meaning siblings.

Orion's fears of spiders and having him crawl into bed with me, asking for protection. Orion begging me to stay every time I look longingly at my school trunk which sits on one side of my room. He begs me not to run away, because who else will scare the spiders away. I roll my eyes and say that Mummy will, he always shakes his head, no, Mummy never does it as well as I do. So the battle continues for I can never deny my sweet, innocent, naïve, little brother. The one that I swore to protect from the moment I saw. The one that I taught manners to, the one that I always answered to no matter what time he knocked on my door, even if I was busy.

So I grit my teeth and stay another day. The battles start again. Stupid things. The rope frays a bit more and I can't help but wonder, why's it always me?

I wonder why I bother. Why I come back summer after summer. I recall thinking that it gets easier, and every time I am wrong. It never gets easier. It just chips away a bit of my innocence each time.

I don't know if it's worth fighting this war. And I'm not even sure which war I mean. Am I talking about the one my family fights against Voldemort? Or is it the internal war in my family?

I don't know why I bother fighting a battle I will never win. I mean Harry always wins over me, their own child. The heiress, although, I'm sure that if they could let Orion inherit then they would. I don't know why I bother trying to fight my battles, they never come out in my favour.

When Orion sits on my bed each night during the summer and sometimes during Christmas if I decide to come home and looks at me with those big grey eyes and asks if I'm happy. I tell him, of course, how can I not be, when I'm with him? The lie itches in the back of my throat as I force it out, then move to telling a story of times gone by, when parents cared and stories of those happy families.

Then when he falls asleep on my bed, only then do I wonder, how did I become this way? Where did the young girl that I once was go? Who am I? The most worrying, what happens when nobody needs me anymore?

Yet I can't bring myself to break the habit of telling these innocent lies to my baby brother, who may be six but is so naïve. I am jealous.

I try to stop the curses spilling from my lips but the numbness is more inviting than anything else…

They have no guilt, I decide. One day in July of that summer. They don't care. Deep down I know this. They never have. But it kills me on the inside.

All I can see is that image burnt in my mind. An image that rotates and comes back, again and again taunting me.

Sam, my little sister, my beautiful, loveable little sister. As much as I love her, I can't help but resent her. Whilst I unconditionally love both of my siblings, I can't help but love her a little less.

It hurts. As days go by, I become a memory, one that is never remembered but remains buried under clumps of clutter.

The scene in Diagon Alley. Orion, Sam, and them. My parents. No, their parents. The perfect family, at least according to all the onlookers of their tender moment. Their parents smile as they are complimented on their "oldest daughter's" beauty. Conveniently forgetting that I exist. That I am there. For I am. There I am, her eyes blue, mine emerald meets sapphire. She grimaces and I shrug, trying to mask the pain.

I manage the rest of the trip. Staying away. Orion skips beside me, slowing down and grabbing my free hand. I smile at him.

When we get home I pull away, not staying long enough to notice Orion's face fall. Sam's tears which she rushes to hide as she runs up the stairs to her bedroom, she knows, she sees and she realises my pain and sorrow.

I shut the door, and cast. This time the pain bubbles but I make no sound. The sound of the blood boiling is more than enough to soothe me. I close my eyes and sink down, leaning against the door.

The bedroom of memories. The room full of sadness but also of acceptance. There's a knock. Sammie pokes her head in. The blonde curls mussed from lying on her bed. Her eyes red rimmed. She looks upset. I pack away my memories which I have never shared with anyone.

The pictures, of me, before all of this. I am a baby and my parents look like they love me. I am smiling and giggling at the camera. They are laughing down at me. We haven't been this way since we were broken. Sammie doesn't need to see this. She shouldn't see this.

These pictures are the reason that I'll forget the fraying rope like I always have done. For it's just about enough for me to carry on with my family.

I open up my arms and she runs into them. Her blonde hair mixing with my ruby. Her shoulder's shake as the tears begin afresh. It's late at night, and she knows that this is the one time that she can sneak in with me and not get caught. She whispers through her tears that she's sorry, and for me not to leave her.

I worry. Seeing my little, brave and bold sister so broken, worries me. She's meant to be strong. But I have to be stronger. I have to be. I look at my still purple skin, purple. I know that I have to stop this, or it'll break the family apart.

I also know that somehow, no matter how much I pretend it isn't the case, I am the glue. It sounds stupid, the girl that is unwanted is somehow the hinge.

So this is how it ends, with me promising my sister that it's all going to be alright, that I'm not leaving (at least not yet), pretending that I'm alright when my little brother sneaks in. They fall asleep in my arms and I look at them. They each resemble our parents so much, even in sleep, I look nothing like them, but I hope that even as they grow they'll still need their big sister. Because I need them too, they are my reasons for living even if I don't want them to know it.

Without them, this isn't meant to be how it ends. It would end with the green light and darkness.

I think to myself perhaps the string will not fray anymore tomorrow, and that it will be a good day. But I know that is fake optimism and that the cord will almost certainly be worse tomorrow, but I can't do anything more.

This is how it ends. I have nothing more to give.


End file.
